Silence Games
by DJ Dubois
Summary: When Cuddy gets sick, House takes her case.  Wait until you see what happens! Please r & r!
1. Cuddy's condition

Silence Games

David J. Duncan

June 2007

Rating T—Teen (language, some hints at adult situations)

Spoilage: Season 3 and everything thus far.

Notes: House MD belongs to FOX. Please r &r!

Chapter 1 West Princeton

After a night of pouring rain and brisk winds, Princeton lay quiet as the sun crept into the sky on that June morning. A few pets and their owners braved a careful jog around the area. The birds tried a few notes before breaking into song. Once everyone was sure it was safe, it would improve but for the time being, a few explorers tested the waters for the others.

Cuddy whacked the alarm clock with a weak slap and groaned. For the past few weeks, the latest fundraiser had occupied her attention. She'd buried herself in her suite, keeping the door locked (and pissing off a certain diagnostician in the process). Still, with the telethon coming up in two months time, she wanted her peers to see PPTH's donation check front and center.

With the windfall from their efforts, the network folks would be pleased indeed.

However, as was the usual case when her obsession got the best of her, she had ignored her health and regular routines. Sure, she'd kept up her Clinic rotations and lectures to the medical students. She'd continued to keep tabs on House albeit through Wilson and the Ducklings. Yet she hadn't paid nearly as much attention to her diet, cramming a little salad or crackers or a bit of tuna here and there into the corners of her hectic schedule.

And the last two days, she felt drained and listless as if the energy were literally being drained away from her. _I really should've stayed away from that patient in the Clinic last week. _She set her feet on the floor but they ached in protest.

"Great. Now what?" she said—but the words came out as a hoarse whisper.

Putting her hand to her forehead, she groaned again at the heat under it. "Wonderful." While she knew she needed to get some paperwork done, she knew better than to infect half of the hospital with the laryngitis she'd picked up in the Clinic. She sighed. _I hate this! _She ground her teeth, knowing full well that it meant at least two days in bed after a trip to the doctors and pharmacy. _Better let Wilson know. _With that, she picked up the phone and made the sick call.

Chapter 2 PPTH—later that morning

House sat in his office suite bouncing the tennis ball against the wall. With the Edwards-phlebitis case behind him and his underlings, he had time for the _really _important stuff. He glanced at his watch, discerning that it was only fifteen minutes until his soap came on. Having sent the Ducklings on their way, he snatched the ball out of the air without taking his eyes off of the mini-TV on his desk.

"Nice trick," Wilson complimented while entering the suite.

"Glad you think so." The diagnostician glanced at his watch. "What? No coffee break with that hottie redhead downstairs?"

The oncologist rolled his eyes. "Sorry to disappoint, House, but I don't hit on every woman in the hospital."

House snorted sarcastically. "Careful, Jimmy, your fans might be disappointed. And to think you dumped your date for me, whoa! Is there something I need to know?"

Wilson fumed and counted to ten. "Actually, I was going to ask for a favor." He grimaced, knowing how the other felt about extra duty.

"A favor?" House rose from his chair and considered his best friend for a minute. Much as a hungry shark circled its victim, he hobbled across the floor and shut the door. "This oughtta be good." He closed the door.

"I just heard the Clinic needs covering."

"And you think _I'll _do it?" House chuckled. "I didn't slip anything in your coffee, did I? As if I'd go in there without having to."

"It would be from 11 to 2. Maybe I could do your Clinic hours for the rest of the week on top of mine?" Wilson offered.

House instinctively smelled the odor of something going on. "Those are Cuddy's hours. Florence Nightingale's going to miss her latest round of sainthood? Yeah right!"

Knowing what was really going on, the anxious visitor shrugged. "She has a meeting." _At least she is meeting with a doctor—her own._

House wasn't buying the excuse. He knew their boss too well. She had _never _missed a Clinic rotation or lecture at least not without insuring there was a replacement at least a week in advance. This was a puzzle needing a solution.

And of course, House could never resist a puzzle especially with Cuddy in its center. Besides he could use the hours to torture Foreman some more before he finally left the team. "Yeah. I'll make sure the Clinic's covered." He sank back into the chair and considered his friend again. "You owe me."

"As if I don't do enough already?" Rolling his eyes, Wilson relented, "Fine. I'll buy dinner later this week."

"Goodie. Now shoo! Show's about to come on," House dismissed, waving at Wilson with the back of his hand.

"See you there in an hour and thanks," Wilson expressed before leaving the office.

House smirked. For once, he had something more important than the soap. Picking up the phone, he dialed Foreman's pager number and waited.

There was something more important indeed……


	2. A Meeting at Rinaldi's

Chapter 3

Two hours later—Clinic

Wilson came out of Exam Room 1, keeping a careful eye out for House. As always, patients filled the seating area from a combination of illnesses and ailments. Just that morning, he'd dealt with a dozen of them and knew the latest flu epidemic would send more their way.

"Twenty bucks says he doesn't show," Nurse Henderson muttered; her eyes intent on her paperwork.

"He said he'd be here," he countered.

"I'll believe that when I see it," she retorted sarcastically.

Foreman walked through the doors briskly and made his way over to them. From the seriousness in his features, it was clear that he'd been coerced into the slot. "I'm here."

Wilson sighed, recalling that House said that he'd make sure the 'Clinic was covered'. _He made sure that one of his underlings did it. Cuddy's going to kill me! _"Where is he?"

"He told me to get down here and then took off. Chase and Cameron don't know anything either. Let's just get this over with. I need to get back to my packing."

"Fine. Exam Room 2," she agreed while handing the folder to the neurologist. After Foreman left, she cleared her throat and wagged her fingers—palm up at Wilson.

Wilson shook his head while placing a crisp twenty in her hand. _House, where are you?_

Rinaldi's Pharmacy

Cuddy slowly made her way into the drug store. Her doctor had prescribed certain antibiotics for what he called advanced laryngitis. _Whatever that means. Way to go, Lisa. A week in bed. Hope Wilson can keep things going that long! _She coughed, figuring that she'd find a way to shave two days off of her sentence and escape back to work before that point.

She glanced around anxiously, trying to steer clear of the other customers. _Last thing I want to do is infect anyone else! _Seeing an empty chair, she nearly collapsed into it. "This can't be just laryngitis."

The pharmacist, a thin man with white hair and glasses, hurried out to her. "Dr. Cuddy, I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"

"Need script filled please," she requested while handing him the paper and making sure not to breathe near his face.

Reading her hoarse whisper, he nodded and walked briskly back behind the counter.

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead. _Terrific. I must be a real sight! _She coughed sharply into a handkerchief. The air conditioning didn't help either as it set off a case of the chills.

"Is there anything else?" the pharmacist asked, trying to be helpful. "I can have one of the clerks get what you need."

"No thanks, Tony," she whispered while getting up and taking a basket. "Can I pay for this up front?"

"Absolutely. Feel better, Dr. Cuddy," he agreed.

She managed a smile for him before grabbing a basket and staggering toward the refrigerated section. There she found a gallon of orange juice and some yogurt. _This will help and I have that chicken soup in the cupboard. _

At that moment, the chills turned hot.

As with the previous two days, the weakness threatened to overwhelm her. She set the basket down and braced herself against the wall.

"Some meeting, Cuddy," a familiar voice gibed from behind her.

She breathed heavily, wincing at the thought of House seeing her like this. "Hou…se." At that moment, she collapsed.

Before she could hit the floor, he caught her. "Figures you'd make me do all of the damn work." He felt her forehead, left wrist and neck for pulse, skin warmth and swelling. "Can't take care of yourself, can you, Cuddy?" He frowned, recalling the wave of sickies from the previous week in the Clinic. "Damn it!" He grabbed a box of face masks off of the shelf and ripped it open.

"Sir, you can't…." one of the clerks insisted.

Flashes of blue fire shot out of House's eyes at the young interloper. "You a doctor, Kid?"

"No."

"Well that makes me an army of one. Get your boss now!" he snapped sharply.

Tony rushed out to where the two doctors were. "Dr. House?"

"Stop right there!" the diagnostician ordered. "Be smart and put one of these on, will you? Crap!" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed it.

"911. What's your emergency?" the operator asked.

"We need an ambulance at Rinaldi's Pharmacy in Princeton Junction. Can you find that?" he replied.

A series of key strokes later, the woman's voice came back. "Of course, sir. Is there a hospital preference?"

"Princeton Plainsboro. And make sure everyone's wearing masks!" he growled before hanging up.

"Do you know what she has?" Tony wondered.

House glared at the pharmacist much as he had the pathetic teenaged underling a few minutes earlier. "Let's see." He placed two fingers on her forehead and tilted his head to the side. "Psychic hotline's down right now. Guess I should get her back to my office. Think that's a great idea?" For emphasis, he added the wide eyed blank expression. "Want to be useful? Make sure the customers don't leave until we can look them over."

"Fortunately, she was the only one here right now," the clerk interjected.

"Great. Let's hope that no yucky stuff's waiting around here," House insisted. Seeing the EMTs enter the shop, he whistled loudly to get their attention.

"What's going on, House?" one of the technicians inquired.

"The boss is taking a siesta in my arms. What do you think, Genius?" he groused. "Let's get her back to Princeton Plainsboro." He watched as they placed her on the stretcher and led her away. "Terrific! So much for avoiding her for the day." He dialed his phone again, paging the Ducklings.

Then he took off for his car. Maybe he wouldn't admit it but the ambulance had someone dear to him on it. And there was no way he'd let it out of his sight……


	3. House in Charge

Chapter 4

PPTH—Emergency Room Area

With Foreman still trapped in the Clinic, Cameron and Chase waited in the midst of the evacuated ambulance entrance for the convoy to arrive. For the two residents, they had wanted at least _one _ lunch to themselves without House pulling something.

"What do you think it is this time?" she muttered.

"House gave up his soap for it. It must be bloody important," he retorted. He glanced into her eyes. "After this is done, want a rain check?"

"Think he'd be suspicious if we both call in?" she inquired sarcastically.

He snorted. "Cameron, this is House we're talking about."

"Good point," she admitted while hearing the ambulance's siren approaching. "Heads up." As the vehicle backed into the slot, she could see the EMTs wearing their masks. "What the Hell?"

The driver saw them standing there without their masks. "Get something on your faces! We have an infectious woman here!" He tossed them a pair of masks.

"Who is it?" she wondered.

"Your boss, Doc," the driver answered while opening the back doors and helping the others to lift Cuddy onto a stretcher and hurrying her into the hospital.

"What the Hell?" Cameron reiterated.

"That seems to be the question of the day," Chase quipped as they ran after the EMTs. Catching up to them, he directed, "Clean room's to the left."

"Sounds great," another of the EMTs agreed as they rushed the ailing administrator in there.

"Guess we know what was so important," Cameron presumed.

"I knew there was a reason I hired you—other than the fact you make great coffee," House cracked while limping toward them as fast as he could manage. "Anything yet?"

"We had the EMTs put her in a clean room. What's going on with her?" Chase informed him.

House glared at the younger man, effectively shutting him up. While he might've engaged in some witty repartee at any other point, he had other priorities at the moment. "That, Chase, is what I pay you three the big bucks for. Go and spring Foreman from Whiner Central. I'll be right there." He limped into the clean room's airlock and donned a yellow contamination suit. Then, after a quick sprits in the shower, he continued to the raven-haired patient's side.

"We'll get checked out, House," the EMT agreed.

"Wow. Smart and a lead foot. My hero. Shower's down the hall. Leave your clothes. We'll decontaminate them," House instructed.

"Hate to tell you, House, but we have other stops…."

The diagnostician wheeled around on the EMT and the latter's cohorts. "Oh I'll bet! Meantime, you want to infect half of the city! Some party then, huh? Radio your damn boss and tell him already." The blank eyed stare followed.

The head EMT rubbed his temples to soothe the headache starting there. While he wanted to lash out, he knew better than to get into a snark match with the gimpy physician. "Fine. Let's go, guys."

After they'd left, House examined Cuddy again. He discerned no new signs or symptoms—just the flushed sweats and the shakes. "Wonderful." As much as he wanted to knock his cane over the head of Cuddy's quack, he thought to start with the medicine from the drug store. He studied the brown vial and its label for a second. "Figures. Might as well play darts as use this crap." He flung the bottle into the trash angrily. "DAMN IT!"

He collapsed into a chair; the situation's stress firing up the burning from the infarction once again. Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his hand into his pants' pocket, pulled his own bottle out and almost flung three white oblong pills down his throat. For two minutes afterward, he sat there both letting the Vicodin do its thing and to watch Cuddy.

Feeling the welcome numbing of the pain, he forced himself to stand. Limping to her side, he grabbed for the hypodermic attached to the IV. "Might as well start her on the good stuff." With that, he set to work.

Thirty minutes later—Diagnostics Suite

Foreman snatched another item off of his desk and almost threw it in the packing box. _Can't believe he's still doing that garbage to me! _For a full ten seconds, he felt the steam coming out of his ears. After that, he composed himself. _Of course he is. That's why you're getting out of here, remember?_

"Good. You're still here," Cameron realized as she and Chase rushed into the suite. "House wants a differential diagnosis."

"Differential?" The neurologist scoffed. "We haven't had a case in two days! Differential on what?"

"Differential on _whom_," House corrected him while limping into the room. "Thanks for playing but since you're already off the playground, we can handle it."

She was about to object but Chase shook his head at her.

"Don't mind me then. I'll grab lunch," Foreman growled before leaving.

"Was that necessary?" she chided.

"He wants out. Fine. Big help, he is," the Diagnostician retorted from the whiteboard where he was writing down symptoms.

"Looks like regular laryngitis to me," Chase supposed after reading the laundry list.

"Figured that out on your lonesome, did you?" House snapped, letting the mask droop ever so slightly. Seeing the couple's startled glance—a rare treat for two so accustomed to his usual brusqueness—he shrugged. "I just spent the last hour with said patient." He took a deep breath and swallowed four vicodin pills.

"So why do you need the differential?" She focused on him, sensing that something wasn't making sense there. "And why are you so interested in a perfectly _boring _case?"

"I'm feeling lazy today so sue me," the boss replied flippantly.

She snorted, knowing he was like that every day. Before he could stop her, she grabbed for the folder. "Wonder what Cuddy will think of this?" When she read the name, she stopped.

"Cameron?" Chase inquired.

"Wonder Girl there just figured out the angle, Chase," House revealed with an air of dark sarcasm. "Get it now, Cameron?"

"In more ways than one," she fired back, not hiding her own distaste for his motives.

"And here I thought you moved on. Careful, Chase, she's still playing the field," House advised sarcastically. "My reasons are my own. Meantime, let's get back to the case."

"And the butt kissing," she groused.

"Get yourself sick, Cameron. Maybe you might be next," House countered impatiently.

"Okay, guys," Chase interjected. "The case, remember?"

"Nice to see one person's on point," House complimented half-sincerely. "Chase is right. We need to figure out a treatment regimen here."

"What about regular antibiotics and bed rest?" she interjected.

"If Cuddy hadn't tried to play superwoman the last two weeks, I'd say cool. Sorry, Cameron, the laryngitis settled and started inviting its buddies to the neighborhood. The cookout's nasty. Right now, we're sitting on a bomb and it's ticking."

Chase stared at him. "House, we can't contain it. The disease is already out of the hospital! Where did you find Cuddy?"

"At Rinaldi's," House informed him; his mind already thinking of strategies to deal with the current problem. "Wilson needs to know about this too." He rolled his eyes anticipating the whine and protests that his best friend would have. "But I do know one place that's going to shut its doors." He smirked darkly at that thought.

The two younger doctors knew where he was going with that. "But Cuddy…."

"Cuddy's out of it. Wilson's been put in charge of the playground now. Too bad her favorite place is about to bite the dust…at least for now," House disagreed. "Go ahead and draw a blood sample from the Empress. I'll be by to harass her later. Don't forget to put your stuff on." With that, he took off.

"This is going to go _really _well," Chase supposed.

"Might as well get it over with," she commented with a sigh. "We might want to test ourselves too since we were in the Clinic with that epidemic."

"Terrific," he groused as they left the suite for Cuddy's room.


	4. House and Wilson TalkArgue

Chapter 5

Wilson's Office

Wilson paced about his office wondering which way to proceed. He knew Cuddy should have been back in her office hours earlier. Worse, there had been no sign of House since he limped out earlier that day. _Where is she? More importantly, where is House? What is he up to? _He ran his hands through his chestnut hair, anticipating that this stress would make him go grey all the faster.

On cue, the target of his thoughts barged into his sanctum. "Big news!"

"What have you done now, House?" the oncologist demanded.

"Moi?" The diagnostician slapped his chest in mock-shock. "Why do you think I'm up to something?"

Wilson stared at him expectantly with his arms across his chest, arching his right eyebrow while he did so. "Because you're _always _up to something."

House shrugged. "Maybe but that's for me to know and you to find out." He walked about the room, knowing full well what a drawn out moment would do to his friend. Stopping in front of the window, he rubbed his stubbled chin and surveyed the view outside of the window. Then he stepped back. "WHOA! Jimmy Boy, you've been holding out on me! No wonder you wanted this window. Get a load of the babes jogging up the path! Damn!"

"Yes, yes," Wilson replied, feeling his cheeks flushing slightly as he knew House was filing that information in his 'gibe-file' for later use. He ran his hand over his forehead and took a deep breath. "Look, House, I have enough on my plate right now as it is. Nobody knows where Cuddy is and we need to keep the hospital running…."

"Never thought to look right under your nose. You are a boss in the making, aren't you?"

Wilson glared at him. "You DO know something!"

House shrugged. He was savoring this game too much to give quick answers to his friend. "Maybe."

Wilson smacked his own head. "Damn it, House! What is it?"

"Wow. You really can't figure it out, can you?" House half-sneered.

"Enlighten us with your genius, House."

House smirked. "The Empress is downstairs, Smarty. Imagine! Her all knowing doctor let her wander the streets infecting the world. Let her pick up her own pills and everything!" His face turned into the wide eyed blank stare.

"The nerve of that guy," Wilson fired back with equal parts impatience and sarcasm. "But why is she down…."

House rolled his eyes. "Maybe because she's a PATIENT? You think? Computer's slow as Hell so it'll take another two hours for her to show up on the patient roster. I already have Chase and Cameron looking at her. I'll go by later for my shots. We figure she's super nasty contagious. Laryngitis and something else…."

"Something else?" Wilson interrupted him. "We could have an epidemic on our hands and you're guessing?"

"Sorry—I thought you administrative BIG SHOT types loooved theories and spinning your wheels," House fired back, not sure whether he liked getting Wilson's goat or hated the fact that he was wasting time he could've been using to watch after Cuddy in person. "You should see Cuddy when I start doing that. She scrunches her face up like a hyena and shrieks like one too."

"Humor me then," the other man huffed. "You have a theory."

"Well DUH! And it's so ultra cool too!" House snapped back sarcastically. "Know the mystery crud in the Clinic last week?"

"We figured out the laryngitis part when the nurses got sick. Still they were drained and exhausted with sore throats. We figured it was…." Wilson stared at his friend who smirked expectantly at him.

"The underlings are going to test Cuddy's blood for sure. I think it's advanced bronchitis on top of the laryngitis. Looks like Boss Lady's out of commission for a week. Way to go on the promotion, Big Guy!" House explained. "And that gets to my next point." He smiled, savoring the next thought in his head.

Recognizing the 'shark-smile' on his friend's face, Wilson gulped in spite of himself. "I know I'm going to regret this but go ahead."

"Shut down the Clinic and go through it. Meantime, quarantine that place…like forever," House told him.

"I'm sure you'd like that," Wilson chuckled in spite of himself. Then his face turned serious. "House, if you found her, you're exposed too!"

House waved a clean face mask at his friend. "Funny what these things do. I had one on like it at Rinaldi's. I was a boy scout too, remember?"

"Too bad it didn't stick," Wilson muttered.

"They're whiners anyway," House declared. "Anyhow got to run and see to the Evil Queen of Numbers. Finally. I can get the last word in." He limped toward the elevator.

_She always lets you have it anyhow. _Wilson frowned while calling downstairs. "Nurse Henderson, this is Dr. Wilson. Shut down the Clinic now and have the patients stay right there. I'm sending some staff in suits down to you to check and treat everyone there. Just keep them there." He hung up the phone. _Leave it to House to figure out a way to shut the Clinic down. _He shook his head and walked out toward his window to look at the landscape…and the joggers.

Cuddy's Room—ten minutes later

Meantime Chase and Cameron set Cuddy's IV up, trying to keep a grip on it despite the gloved hands. They had already drawn the blood sample. Now they wanted to be sure that they were ready for House's prescription.

"She's a 103," he noted while inspecting the thermometer. "We really need to get some cold packs."

"Done," Cameron replied while pressing the call button. When the charge nurse answered, she requested, "We need some cold packs in here for Dr. Cuddy stat!"

"You're fantastic, you know that?" he asked.

Despite herself, she managed to smile at him. "Stop."

"It is Tuesday, you know," he reminded her.

"How could I forget?" She flushed in spite of herself.

Before the scene could go any farther, a loud slurping noise interrupted them. They turned to find House leaning against the window outside of the clean room and sucking the last of a soda out of his cup.

"We are so busted," she sighed.

"He already knew," he advised her while watching their boss walk in.

"Great medical technique, Kiddies. I would go with the tongues next. Makes it more exciting," the diagnostician gibed.

"You wish," Cameron shot back. "Cuddy's temperature's up to 103. We've got cold packs on the way stat."

House glared at his watch and then out the window toward the nurse's station. "Someone forgot about the word means." Using his cane, he rapped on the glass hard to get the nurses' attention outside. Then he called them for further measure. "Sorry to break up the dialogue but can someone tell me what STAT means? Get the damn cold packs that Cameron asked for already!" He slammed the phone back down. "Start broad base antibiotics for laryngitis and bronchitis."

"What about meningitis?" Chase inquired while injecting the needle for the medicine bag into the IV tube.

Not wanting that to be the cause, House shook off the junior doctor. "Let's go with the bronchitis until your blood sample shows different. If it is meningitis, Wilson will wet his pants and we'll have the damn CDC down our necks again." He still recalled the incident where Foreman nearly died a year earlier. "Get those cultures to the lab. I'll check on you later." He turned back toward Cuddy.

As they had suspected that House cared more about Cuddy than a boss or friend for a while, Chase and Cameron collected the sample and left House to his own devices.

Less than a minute later, the stat crew brought the requested cold packs into the room. After padding Cuddy's bed with them, they subsequently left as quickly as they came.

Noting that Cuddy's pillow was askew, he straightened it. "Morons. Can't even get that right." Now that he was alone in the room, he released the mask that he usually kept drawn about himself. With a quick motion of his wrist, he closed the blinds, insuring their privacy. "See what being superwoman gets you, Cuddy?" He reached out slowly, allowing his gloved hand to touch her raven black hair. "At least now you can't tell me what to do. Not that I'd listen anyhow." He shook his head and let the gloved fingertips brush across her left cheek. Admittedly, he longed to kiss her but the clean suit's helmet prevented him from doing so. "You owe me at least a feel, Cuddy," he muttered while taking a last long look at her. Then he limped back out toward the lab and the Ducklings.

PPTH Lab—Second Floor—Ten minutes later

Foreman stalked into the area, not really wanting to be involved in whatever House was planning at that point. _I have that other interview in a couple of hours! Why should I be here? _He saw his two counterparts taking turns looking into a microscope. "What's going on?"

Cameron looked at him expectantly. "Glad you could make the party, Foreman. We're testing House's theory about Cuddy's illness."

"Cuddy? What's going on with her?" the neurologist wondered, panicking about his reference.

"She's got a couple of bugs in her," Chase explained. "We know about the laryngitis. There's something else too. I think it's meningitis."

"House doesn't," she disagreed while exchanging the first sample for another one. "Treating this one for bronchitis." She squeezed a few drops of a red dye into the Petri dish and studied it through the microscope's enhanced gaze. She grinned. "And so does the sample. Take a look, Chase."

The Aussie looked for himself and frowned. "Bronchitis, it is."

"Here we go," Foreman noted while seeing House limp into the room.

"Find out it was bronchitis yet?" House inquired expectantly.

"You're right," Chase conceded, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Huh?" House cupped his hand to his right ear. "Repeat that for the other kiddies."

"I said you were right," Chase reiterated.

"Funny how I was right," the Diagnostician gibed. "Start the Boss on Amoxicillin ASAP. I'll be by in a while to check on her." After the trio had departed, House studied the sample under the microscope to confirm Cameron's diagnosis. "Gotcha," he gloated to the sample before writing down some notes. After disposing of the samples, he headed back for the clean room.


	5. Tables Turned

Chapter 6 An hour later—Cuddy's Room

After a quick bite in the cafeteria, an enjoyable view of the now-closed Clinic (and checking on his soap), House limped through the airlock cleansing/dressing procedure and into the clean room. From the newly placed amoxicillin bag set up on the IV frame and dripping through the tube into Cuddy's hand, he knew the Ducklings had seen his wishes met. _At least it won't get any worse…at least not until she wakes up._

Thinking of how things had maneuvered in the past few hours, he grimly smiled. Seeing everyone in a hurry to close the Clinic had been predictably satisfying even if it was only a temporary triumph. He knew she'd reopen the stupid area once she was back on her feet—that is if Wilson didn't cave first.

_At least Chase was wrong. _ He knew full well the mess that they had narrowly avoided with that prognosis. "I know how you love to have the CDC tromping around on your playground, Cuddy."

Not surprisingly, she didn't respond; her features remaining in silent repose as she slept. Her chest rose and fell under the blanket's soft cover. Her breath barely creased her lips as it came out.

He remained fixed in place for several minutes, watching her intently and (for once) not caring who saw him doing so. Within his mind's eye, he could see once again all of the arguments and games which had defined their relationship from their younger days through that point in time. "It's never boring, is it?"

The sleeping form didn't respond.

"I could get used to this," he teased her while sliding a thermometer into her mouth and waiting for the digital readout to calibrate itself. When it had done so, he saw that it was 101. "Figures you'd take your sweet time." He placed his hand on her stomach and felt it rise and fall with her breathing. For a split second, the thought of letting his fingers stray slightly upward. "Nah. Too easy." Instead, he smoothed the blanket and made sure everything was in its place.

He glanced out into the hall and saw nobody standing at the nurses' station. He might have been tempted to steal a kiss if the environmental suit hadn't blocked him from doing so. Instead he smoothed the straying raven dark strands sprayed across her forehead. "Hope you're enjoying yourself, Cuddy. Can't wait to see the scowl again." With that, he left.

Unknown to him however, Cuddy hadn't been asleep…well not all the way anyhow. She coughed slightly and creaked her eyes slightly open. She smirked ever so slightly. "Got…cha, House." Then her eyes closed once again, allowing her to return her rest.

Chapter 7

Diagnostics Suite—later that night

House sat in his darkened office batting his soft ball against the wall with his cane. He couldn't focus on the latest two cases on the desk in front of him. "Wish Cameron would get back with word." Stopping for a second, he wiped his forehead off, feeling the sweat there. _Now what?_

"Anything yet?" Wilson queried.

"Figured you'd be down there checking out the Mistress," the Diagnostician retorted while whapping the ball off the wall with a thud. His sharp blue eyes bore into the visitor's. "Running things boring you already?"

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually…no. Now I know why Cuddy's as strung out as she is sometimes."

"And here I'm doing my best not to help."

Wilson shook his head, considering the double meaning in House's words. He was more than aware of how much of a headache his friend could be for the occupant of the Dean's chair. However, that was due in part to the other's fanatical drive to cure the "common" laryngitis/bronchitis combo. Such an engagement puzzled most of PPTH but not the oncologist. Having watched the sparring matches and outright flare ups between House and Cuddy, he had always known—and admittedly, had been jealous of—the unspoken link between them. "You've got other things on your mind." He glimpsed at his friend, seeing the slight flush on the latter's face. "Are you okay?"

"Love bug. It's a killer," House quipped sarcastically.

"Wait a minute," Wilson retorted before touching the other's forehead. "You're burning up!"

"Quit that!" House batted the hand away. "I'll go home, take my pills and drink my juice like a good boy. Steve McQueen and I can exchange tips on how to seduce joggers. Have any to share?"

Wilson arched his eyebrow. "You should be in that clean room with Cuddy, House."

House arched his neck back and stared at his friend. "You mean I have permission to pounce on her? WHOA! Seriously, I could have Chase….."

"House!" Wilson interrupted in frustration. "That's it. Either you get downstairs to the clean room or go home. I'll have one of your staff bring the pills by later."

"I told you before. I was wearing a mask, Wilson!" House snapped. "Who needs help now?"

"Nevertheless, you know the saying—prevention is worth a pound of cure? I don't want to take a chance," Wilson argued.

"How about this saying—'mind your own business'?"

"As the interim Dean, I'm ordering you out of here," Wilson ordered. "We'll take care of Cuddy. Do you want me to call security, House?"

House studied the other's face and recognized the seriousness there. "You'd really do it. Damn! All right, I'm going." He pouted while throwing a couple of items into his gym bag and limping toward the elevator.

Wilson sighed, knowing that House wanted to take care of Cuddy himself. However, he had to think of the entire facility first before them or even himself. _Then why do I feel like a rat in the process?_

Chapter 8 Two days later—House's apartment

Even though he hated to admit it, House knew Wilson's prognosis was correct. Since leaving the suite, he'd felt increasingly tired. By the time he stumbled in the door, his arms and legs ached. After somehow managing to check on Steve's food and water before collapsing onto the bed and falling into a deep sleep.

Dreamscape

He dreamt that he wandered in the midst of a blistering desert; his throat so parched and sore that he couldn't speak much less come out with his witty remarks. His arms felt like lead. He dragged his leg through the scorching sand not wanting to surrender to the conditions.

Worn down at several hours of this struggle, he fell to his knees and gasped for breath. The sweat poured off of him. He hacked, trying to get air into his throat.

When all appeared lost, a figure concealed in white flowing robes appeared in front of him. It pulled him back to his feet. "Wh…a?"

"Just work with me," a familiar voice advised pointedly. "The oasis is right over the next rise."

He smiled, recognizing the source. After all, it was his dream. Who else would know about this?

"Lie down," the figure advised when they had reached the lush spot. When he had done so, she soaked a cloth in the nearby spring and laid it over his forehead.

Then a brisk breeze billowed the figure's facial covering, betraying the other's dark eyes and wisps of raven dark hair.

He smirked with satisfaction despite the pain as he realized his savior's identity……

He cracked his eyes open to find himself back in his own bed. "Cr…ap. Cu…ddy," he barely managed to whisper.

"Is right here," the Dean told him somewhat hoarsely from where she sat across the room from him. She still appeared to be pale and exhausted.

"B…ed," he managed to mutter.

"Been there long enough," she replied weakly before hacking loudly into her handkerchief. "Now it's my turn to tell you not to talk, House." She smirked at him, managing a triumphant gleam in her eye. "You thought I'd leave the Clinic closed?"

He shrugged.

She shook her head silently.

Imagining the extra shifts, he coughed loudly. While trying to cover his mouth with his left hand, he discovered the IV there with a bag of something dripping down the tube and into the aforesaid hand.

"Wilson…set it up," she rasped before getting back up. "Sleep…."

He felt too weak to do otherwise.

She slowly rose to her feet. Ever since she let Wilson and the Ducklings now that she was awake, she had driven herself to return the favor House had given her at Rinaldi's and at PPTH. _I'm not about to let one hang over my head. Not that he'd ever let me forget about it of course. _She glimpsed at his sleeping features—still stressed despite the exhaustion clearly portrayed on them. _I wish he could relax. At least he's not arguing…for once. _As he had done days earlier for her, she brushed his hair out of his face before replacing the cold cloth on his forehead. "Need sleep too….." She managed to return to the front room where the couch bed awaited her. Climbing under the covers, she took two Amoxicillin pills before shutting her eyes for a well-deserved rest.

Conclusion A week later

Having finally shaken his maladies, House restrained himself while dealing with yet another know it all in the Clinic. Granted, his head and throat still hurt from the "combo-cold" (Chase's term for it) but Cuddy showed no mercy in response to his 'accomplishment', assigning him six extra hours which he had to serve in person during that week. He glared at the blonde woman across the room from himself who complained of chest pains. "It's not that hard, you know."

"You can help me, Doctor?" she inquired.

He rolled his eyes while scribbling out a script and firing it at her. "Ooh yeah! That should about do it."

She stared incredulously at the paper and then at him. "This is over the counter medicine for stomach gas!"

"Trust me, you'll like what it does," he retorted almost smugly and stopping potential argument.

She nodded warily before sliding off the exam table and taking her purse. Still eyeing him, she left quickly.

"Another whiner. Will the fun _ever _end?" he griped sarcastically.

"You make it that way, House," Cuddy responded while entering the room. "I see you had another satisfied patient?"

"Nature of your beast, Cuddy," he retorted not giving any ground as he put the last folder in the "patient seen" pile. "Gotta see a nurse about my parole now."

"Henderson's long gone, House, as are the rest of the Clinic staff. We closed at six, remember?" she inquired.

He glanced at his watch to see that it was 6:15. He glared at the clock on the wall which read 5:58. "Really cute. That bug must've messed your head up worse than I thought."

"I prefer to think it's your company," she fired back dryly, not giving an inch to him. "Still I never did thank you for pulling my ass out of Rinaldi's before I could infect Princeton proper." She removed her white lab coat, showing off a very form fitting button down white sweater and blue miniskirt before smirking at him. "You don't suppose I could find a way?" She walked over to the exam table.

"Maybe closing the Clinic again…" he jabbed.

She slapped her forehead despite knowing he was teasing her. "Maybe _another _way."

He grinned at her before helping her onto the exam table. Then he turned out the lights.

For once, he didn't mind checking out a patient in the Clinic.

But then even for House, there were exceptions to every rule…….

THE END


End file.
